Strange Relationship
by Lauren Eliza
Summary: She isn't supposed to want him the way she does. Either of them. The one she thinks she loves and lost, and the one she doesn't love but seems to have found. Lucas/Peyton/Chris triangle, post 5.12. No endgame decided.
1. Chapter 1

_I never even liked you, I only wanted sex_

It had been a long time since anyone had made Peyton Sawyer feel good.

Too long.

She felt happiness for her friends, or sadness over tragedies on the news, but she hadn't felt pleasure for herself in a long time. Four years. And no, the length of time was no coincidence. She was surprised that this is what it had taken to crack the hard shell she'd constructed over those four years. Usually, only the person who causes that kind of pain can break it apart. But not this time.

He cried out at the end, and she followed him with a softer cry of her own. They lay entwined on the couch in her office, strangely comfortable in the aftermath of what never should have happened between them. She propped herself up on one elbow, gazing down at the man beside her. He smiled, a lazy grin that she remembered well, and exhaled deeply.

"So, Blondie, you know what they say," he smirked. "Once you've had Keller, there's no going back."

***

He had come back to town more quietly than one might have expected. She walked into Max's old record store one afternoon, and there he was, sitting behind the counter with an expression of boredom and contempt on his face as he watched the giggling teenage girls who were browsing through the vinyl.

"Chris Keller?" she said incredulously. "What are you doing here?"

"Thought it was time to head back to the other side of the industry," he drawled, unabashedly checking her out. "You look hot."

She had to laugh at him, at the way he seemed not to have changed at all.

"How long have you been in town?" she asked as she perused the latest releases. He came out from behind the counter to walk up and down the aisles with her.

"About a week," he replied.

"And are you here for good?"

"What is this, an interrogation?" he asked.

"No," she laughed. "Just curious."

"I don't know, Curlyhead, I'm starting to think you're interested," he said, flashing her a grin.

"Interested in what a formerly successful musician is doing back in our hometown, where I happen to now run a record label," she countered.

"Don't tell me you only want me for my music," he said, pretending to be hurt.

"Maybe I do," she said. "My first artist is out on tour and I'm a little bit bored, frankly. I always knew you had talent. It could be fun to try to find it again."

"More fun than working here?" he questioned. "The clientele is so stimulating."

"I'm not sure if you're talking about me or the Barbies," Peyton replied, "But I'd say yes anyways."

"How about we talk about it over drinks? Tonight?" he suggested.

"Tonight?" she asked.

"Unless you and your boyfriend have plans," he said.

"No boyfriend, no plans," she said absentmindedly, digging through another pile of records.

"Then it's a date," he said. "9:00 at Tric?"

"Sure," she said. "But it's not a date."

She couldn't remember the last time she had really been a date. Well, there was the time she had been set up with Chase, but that hardly counted. So despite her parting words to Chris, she found herself slightly nervous as she got ready to go out. Maybe it was simply that she had forgotten how to act around guys. Or maybe it was the fact that the years had made a man of Chris Keller, though his personality seemed unchanged. He looked good, to put it simply. Tall and thin, but with the suggestion of more muscle under his simple jeans and t-shirt. She felt a certain pressure to look equally as good, a desire to be desired that she could pretend had nothing to do with him personally. She could pretend, but it wasn't worth it. She wanted this to be a date. So she prepared like it was one, putting on a little black dress and purple heels, curling her hair and applying more makeup than usual. She was lucky that Brooke was out with Owen for the night and wouldn't question all the extra work just to meet a new artist.

She walked into Tric at about 9:15, just long enough to keep him waiting without being overly rude. Yes, she had done it on purpose. She found him at the bar, and he turned as she made her way towards him. She noticed the ways his eyes widened in appreciation as she sauntered over, and felt herself smiling the small smile of the woman who knows she's impressed a man.

"And I thought you looked hot earlier," he murmured as she swung herself onto the stool beside him.

"I'm unpredictable like that," she said.

"But not always," he replied, sliding a glass towards her.

She took a sip, discovering that it was a gin and tonic, her personal favourite.

"How did you know?" she asked.

"It just seemed like your type of drink," he replied, shrugging slightly.

"Don't try to pretend that you know me," she said.

"Not yet," he said, saluting her with his beer.

She found herself liking the fact that he drank beer. Lucas always drank scotch. A pretentious, snobby sort of drink. Beer was honest. It didn't pretend anything more than it was.

"So, about going into business together," Chris said.

"What do you need to know?" she asked, preparing herself for a barrage of questions about her experience.

"I need to know that we're going to make a great record," he answered.

She was surprised, but she answered honestly. "I think we can manage that," she said.

"You've got your own recording studio, I've heard," he said.

"You want to see it?" she offered.

"Sure," he said, draining the last of his beer and holding out his hand to help her off her stool.

His hand felt warm and solid in hers. She didn't drop it right away, and she could tell that he had noticed. She bit back a grin, delighted to realize that she could still flirt with a man and identify her successes. She slowly dropped his hand from her grip as she led the way towards her office and studio, feeling his eyes follow every swing of her hips. It was a powerful, intoxicating feeling, making her giddier than the two drinks she had consumed had. She slid open the door to the studio, allowing him to enter before her.

"It's small, but it seems functional," he said, walking around the room to inspect the equipment.

"Glad you approve," she said drily, and he flashed her another one of those grins.

"So this is where I'll work," he said. "Can I see where you work?"

"Sure," she replied, leading him through the connecting door into her office.

He examined the space as thoroughly as he had the studio, picking up small pieces of memorabilia or records. She watched him as he did, almost as if she was waiting for his approval here as well.

"Nice set up," he said finally.

"It's a good place to work," she agreed, coming to stand beside him by her desk.

"You're happy here?" he asked suddenly.

"As happy as I can be," she said, confused by his serious tone.

"You should be happy," he said. "You deserve it."

"What are you talking about?" she asked, but she was interrupted as he pulled her towards him and covered her lips with his own.

"You're a sexy, smart, successful woman," he said, trailing kisses down her neck as she moaned softly at the feeling.

She pulled away for a moment, but his hands were buried deeply in her curls, and as she stared into his eyes, she saw the reassurance she was seeking. He admired her. He desired her. No more than that. Wasn't that exactly what she wanted?

She pulled him back towards her, tugging him the direction of the couch. He settled over her, his weight comfortable and solid against her. She tugged his shirt over his head and ran her hands down his back, feeling his muscles ripple against her palms, as he eased the straps of her dress down over her shoulders.

It wasn't like making love.

But it wasn't quite like making war.

It was fierce, and passionate. It was exactly what she needed, what she had needed and had been going without for years. He gave as much as he took, and so did she.

It was strangely right.

Or maybe not so strangely at all.


	2. Chapter 2

_Can't tell the bottle from the mountain top, no we're not right_

He left her shortly afterwards. He wanted to talk, but she didn't. She had gotten what she wanted from him and was satisfied with that. He wasn't sure that he was, but if he knew anything about Peyton Sawyer, it was that she was stubborn, and would always get her own way. So he faked nonchalance and left her dishevelled on the couch in her office, the office where they would begin working together two days later. He didn't even want to think of what kind of torture that would be, trying to discuss marketing strategies and tour dates with that couch looming in the background, memories of the way she looked and sounded beneath him crowding his mind. So he shook his head, and reported back to his last day at the record store. He couldn't help feeling that more than his career was about to change.

She couldn't help laughing as she pulled her dress back on. The previous night seemed so surreal now that it was over. It was something she never would have imagined herself doing, but neither would she ever have imagined that she would have moved back to Tree Hill only to find Lucas with Lindsey, and then for the other woman to leave him at the altar, supposedly because of her. Something in her had definitely loosened, because for the first time, she recognized the utter ridiculousness of the situation. What had she been thinking, expecting Lucas to just fall right back into the way they had been? It wasn't entirely his fault they had been apart long enough for him to find someone else. She turned around at the sound of footsteps behind her, and was shocked to see none other than the subject of her thoughts.

"Hey," he said. "You look like you had a rough night."

"Yeah," she said nervously. "Had a few too many drinks, slept it off in here," she lied.

"Nice to have such a convenient crash pad," he grinned, and Peyton found herself weighing that grin against the one she had seen so often the night before. She wasn't sure of the result.

"So, what are you doing here?" she asked.

"I wanted to talk to you," he said, taking a seat, thankfully not on the couch.

"What about?" she asked, dragging her office chair forward.

"About us," he said quietly.

"What is there to say?" she said defensively. "I'm pretty sure we've said anything that needs to be said."

"Not really," Lucas said. "Not on my part, at least."

"Then say what you need to say," Peyton said, beginning to be irritated with his less than direct approach.

He took a deep breath before continuing. "Lindsey was right. I still love you," he said, looking directly into her eyes.

Of all the things she had imagined he would say, that certainly hadn't been it.

"But I love Lindsey too," he continued. "And it's not fair to either of you. And I know I don't deserve either of you. My heart never got over you, Peyton, but my head had given up. So I let myself fall in love with Lindsey, and I can't just let go of that. But I thought you should hear it from me. I love you, and I probably always will."

"So now what?" she asked.

"I don't know," he replied. "I need to figure that part out."

"What, exactly, do you need to figure out?" she asked, and it was a sign of how long they had been apart that he didn't read the menace in her tone.

"What I want," he said simply.

"Because what you want is the only thing that matters, right?" she said viciously.

"What are you talking about?" he asked.

"You make it sound like an episode of The Bachelor or something," she said, getting up from her chair and pacing around the room. "Like you're going to make your choice and whoever it is will just cry and laugh and tell you much she's dreamed of this moment."

"Don't pretend like you wouldn't do exactly that," he said, standing as well.

She slapped him. Hard. And then when he lifted his hand to his own cheek in surprise, she burst into tears. And he did what he always did so well, drawing her into his arms and letting her cry, leaning on his strength.

"This is so fucked up," she said through her tears.

"I know," he said soothingly, running his hands over her back. "I know."

"How is it possible that we can hurt each other so much?" she asked.

"Love," he said. "That must be it."

"It shouldn't have to hurt," she said.

"But it does," he said.

'You should go," she said, disentangling herself from his arms.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Everything is wrong, Lucas," she laughed. "You need to go brood over this, and I have work to get done. Let's just see where it goes, okay?"

"Okay," he said. He moved towards her as though he would kiss her goodbye, but she stopped him.

"Not until you know," she said.

He accepted the wisdom in that, and left her office without saying anything more. As soon as he was gone, Peyton collapsed back into her chair. This was a disaster. A certified, grade-A disaster. It had seemed so easy to tell herself that Lucas was going to chase after Lindsey, that she would be fine with that eventually, and that it would all work out. Until he said he still loved her. Wasn't that what she had been wanting all these months? She had known it in her heart, as had all of their friends, but it took him this long to admit it to himself and to her.

Really, it was thanks to Lindsey.

And wasn't that just the biggest irony of them all?

**Author's Note: There was something weird going on with the site yesterday, and I'm going to pretend that that's why there hasn't been much response to this story. So I'm posting this early in the hopes that more people will get interested, but a huge thank you to those who left a review for the first chapter. I'm really enjoying writing this one, and would love to know which way you'd like to see the endgame. Let me know in a review, if you so desire! Cheers, Lauren. **


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